ZombieFreak

Whatever Comes to Mind...

Saturday, November 20, 2010

The sunlight shot into my eyes, piercing through my eyelids. I yawned, my eyes heavy, but my soul was exhilarated. I jumped out of bed, enlightened. Those gruesome hours of sleep just wasted my time. I never hated time so much, as I feared never seeing her again. She was my one, she was my all. I went to the bathroom, like I did every single day of my life. However, this time, the bathroom looked more vibrant. It looked happy in my eyes. It was just what I wanted to see. Because of her, the sink, the tubes of toothpaste, the shampoo bottles, had never had more color than I ever saw before. I sighed, smiled, looking into the mirror. I grabbed my toothbrush, and the colorful tube of tooth paste. I dressed down, and walked out the door, with a skip in my step. We planned to meet by the lake. Our Lake. It was the place of our first kiss, and the place of where all our memories were held. It was sacred. Nobody would have felt anymore love and lust than we have ever felt. I left the house, and came my way across the street. I jabbed the headphones into my ears, blasting Mayday Parade. I was planning to tell her that I loved her today. I glanced up at the sky, and saw the bluest of the blue that I had ever looked at.

Then all I saw was dark.

I was hit by a car. The man was far too intoxicated to notice that I wasn't just a speed bump he ran over. He drove away, unnoticed. I was found a couple hours later when my father was just leaving for work. Those couple hours was the most inhuman thing I ever felt. I didn't seem to see the colors anymore.

The ambulance came, and I felt me being lifted to the gurney. They pushed me down the busy hospital hall. I could hear the sobbing from my mother, and I could feel the frown upon my father. The only thing on my mind was to tell her that I loved her. I also wanted, that the last thing I wanted to see, was her face. She received a call later that day. She ran through the pouring rain. My eyes were planted on the doorway.

Then she appeared.

Her face benign, her face wet with both tears and rain. I opened my mouth, ready to tell her that I loved her, but it was too late. The darkness flowed through my eyes.

Thursday, November 18, 2010

"It snowed today, piling to about a foot. It was gruesome for me to still be inside. The temperatures fell to the lowest, but all I had was a tattered blanket; the house didn't have a heater in the basement. I lay quiet, because any moment, Father would come home. Alcohol in his breath, dirt in his mind, and filth in this heart. Angry, from all the work he had to do, from all the bills he had to pay, from the burden I carry.I am his rag doll.A jingling of a man's keys from the front door, the noise I hear every 4:30 afternoon, sends my spine twisting. I knew what was coming. I still lie quiet, because in a moment he will call me, burst through the door, and have his weapon his his hand, a vodka bottle in the other. That was exactly what happened. The next thing on his schedule was to take out all his anger from the day on me.His face twisted this fury, my heart beating. I could tell by his eyes, he was fired from his job. That means he will not earn any money, meaning there will be no food. And from there, having an extra person, me, to care for would be more difficult.Tonight will be twice as painful. I sighed, sat up, ready to face him. I knew what was coming for me. I was use to it by now, ever since my mother died. From there, he became crazed. I'm surprised I'm still alive.I greeted him as usual. He cursed, unaware of the fact that cursing in front of an eight year old, was a sin. Then, he beat me. I died that day, but I died with sorrow in my heart, not with pain from the beating: I died with the memory of him, two years ago, promising that he will teach me how to ride a bike, and bring me to the new park. He never did."

"In this world, are two kinds of people. People who want love, and people who doesn't want love. One had enough, one wanted more. One needed more, but it always slipped away. She shut it out, but it always lurked back. She cried for more, one cried for less. When these two people met, they will be capable to alter a life."

She shielded her face with her [her hands bled] hands. . . She looked away [She broke the mirrors] from any reflection. . . .She looked to the [never at the sky] ground. . . Her lips were [she never smiled] still. . . She covered[She starved herself] her body. One day, she was told [He said she was beautiful.] a compliment. . . He was [she believed him]right. He took her[her hands no longer bled] hand. He kissed her [her lips smiled] lips.

Sunday, November 14, 2010

I heard someone in the house, and I hid in the closet.
My mom had seen me get into the closet.
A man with a gun asked her where I was, and she didn't tell him.
She was shot.
My mother loved me.
GMH "
http://love.givesmehope.com/

We had a conversation, me and my friend, about arguments with our mothers. Our conscious and heart knows that our mother is right, although our body and mind goes against what they say. [An urge to prove ourselves correct is in a human's nature.] Anyways, those arguments, can range from aggravating silent treatments, to strong confessions that leaves us both, mother and daughter, breaking down into tears. While I lie in my bed, face down, hating my mother, she walks in. My mother, tears and all, confesses everything, telling me how her life was pretty much penniless, to the fact that an ant hill was to keep herself entertained. They couldn't afford toys. She never had a doll. She had exactly one pair of trousers, and a mere shirt was all she had. They had to salvage every single thread to have enough for another pair of pants. She sobs, and I could hear she was trying to hide it, because she had always kept a smile for me. It killed me to see a mother cry. While my face is dug into the pillow, I realized she had completed her goal: giving me something and everything that she never had. I can't help but realize how she has spoiled me and my siblings on our birthdays, but I on the other hand, had no idea when her birthday was. My emotions are colliding, and fighting it out, because I felt sorry for her, I wanted to jump up, embrace her, and tell her sorry for every single thing I did to make her unhappy. However, I hated her at the moment. I just lied there, my face in the pillow, crying my eyes out, vowing there won't be a moment like this again, because I will change. My nerves twisted, I had confidence. I said I was sorry. She never looked so happy.
She told me when I was a child, she would sing me endless lullabies, and I would not fall asleep, because I wanted to hear them all.
I know my mother had banned me from the things I loved, and yelled at me, but I learned those things banned are only improving me. I forgive her.
So here in the hallway benches again, our school ready to lock up, is me and my friend, confessing about our mothers. It is a silly thing to discuss in a typical conversation, but our conversations can change and alter a life, and can alter eachother's.
We get up to leave, ready to go home and to face our mothers. So the moral of all this, is respect your mother. You don't know, what they all have gone through.

-tutty. <3

P.S. Unless your mother is an abusive drunk alcoholic, then I'm sure there are exceptions. :)